Duality
by Bevindicated
Summary: Izaya's boredom takes him to a hospital that's meant for the institutionalized. During his stay, he discovers why. AU.


_"A subject for a great poet would be God's boredom after the seventh day of creation."_

- Friedrich Nietzsche

* * *

><p><em>God must've desired a challenge in his free time.<br>Something, anything to occupy his mind!  
>You see? God and I—we're the same.<br>The king of kings, forever…watching over this game—_

Izaya laughed, staring:

_The king of kings,_

He was anything but a poet, not by any stretch of the imagination. What had prompted him to try a hand at it was because he felt his entire existence was a form of art—a superficial reason at best.

He wasn't particularly religious; just the concepts of it amused him, like a fairy tale would to a child. It was quite humorous, really, that such profanity was foremost in his mind. Then his laughter faded into awkward chuckles. Perhaps these thoughts were a by-product of his tedium.

When there was no more to write Izaya's hand came to an abrupt halt. His room was surrounded by a hollow silence. These monotonous moments were an emotion drain on him. There was nothing more he dreaded. He turned over, a deep frown marring his face. He longed for the jubilance of social settings, so that he may watch over the humans he loved.

Izaya thought about what to do next lest he grow blasé. He could practice his laugh in front of the mirror, to raise some brows from the nurses. But that wouldn't do. That would just warrant a doctor's attention. The only one present was Mikado, the ever so diligent roommate of his.

"Mikado," he called.

The timid boy turned to his name. "Y-yes?"

Izaya threw his pen across the room, startling his roommate.

"Do you want to play a game?"

Yes, that would be a great way to kill his boredom and free himself from his room. It was like killing two birds with one stone.

* * *

><p>The world has always been a dark place, full of undeniable realities. It is so natural that humans adapt to endless pretenses and fallacies to cope to avoid it. People go by life, pretending not to know instead of addressing these lies, and no one else expects them to know. They live comfortably that way, living unexposed. This motivates me to be the person I am today.<p>

For one thing I am not one to deny the truth. My former job was finding the truth for large sums of money. My understanding of humans naturally helped me utilize facts, exploiting their fears and peeling layers of their personality until I reached the core. The core that was their unwanted, decided nature. What I enjoyed must of my job was the way anyone would react after anyone's mask was taken off.

As of late, I have grown bored.

Even as I watch my beloved humans, I am on a different level from them. Confined to the shadows of the city, I observed them like a god would watch his creations. But Ikebukuro's usual residents are the same. It drove me to try and test new ways to subdue my boredom. Suffice it to say, this place held very different results from Ikebukuro. This place is Obuko Clinic.

"Why is that every time something goes wrong around here I find you at the center of the problem?" The psychiatrist assigned to me pretends to be mad. I stretch, the tension in my neck is too much as a result of the beds they force me on. My gesture is met with livid stare, I am pushing it but I don't stop. The prospect of passing up my plans outweighs the consequences indefinitely.

His accusations leave me to feign an exasperated look, to mask a grin that could even make the devil cry. I would know; I practice.

I enjoy playing with this particular doctor, a problematic man but nonetheless amusing, for instance, he isn't stupid enough to believe my roommate deliberately left our room. It was convenient for me. Otherwise I would grow wary of getting away with everything.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Shinra~"

Shrina adjusts his glasses. _Oh-ho. _The doctor is upset.

"You scared Mikado into a panic attack, Izaya. He has several mental impairments and you also know that he's schizophrenic."

"Should you be discussing other patients?" I ask. Shinra sticks to his hard gaze. "He has _social_ anxiety. I was just trying to be friendly and introduce him to some friends. He's always by himself, suffering in that confined room. It's boring."

"I don't believe that's all you wanted. You don't care about Mikado or anyone else in this facility."

"I was really trying to be nice," I reassure. "And I do care. I love everyone here."

Shinra's eyes furrow; he is skeptical as usual. "I think you wanted to see how he would react in that situation."

I'm aware that my lips are twisting. That feeling of holding back a smile is something not even I could resist. There was no use in lying to Shinra, after all he was someone I did not like to fool completely. Something about him told me, "don't look any further!" Telling me to stay away made me want to look closer and closer, until I can see Shinra for what he really is. Or, maybe this really was him—with the exception of his fake morals as a doctor. Truthfully, I cannot see him giving an ounce of concern for his patience. I wish I could take this part of him and throw it away like trash. Maybe then I can see him more than just another human I love.

"Are you going to tell the director?" I ask.

"It's protocol, so yes," he says. "Simon wasn't here either."

He throws used bandages into the waste ban, and I resist another grin. Simon is the cook in the hospital, a new born pacifist as the result of his past military services with the Soviet Union. The hospital used his pacifist ideals to aid restraining a patient. It usually put an end to my schemes. It was coincidental that I decided to play with Mikado on a day the Russian brute had the day off.

I have been assigned to this place for six months. In the duration of that time, I found myself drawn to the people—specifically, the patients. They entertained me in higher levels than Ikebukuro and Shinjuku could ever provide! And, after my three months, I drop one of my latest schemes on a patient—like today—and more time is added to my sentence.

To justify my actions, I enjoy reactions, but sometimes it goes further than that. I value the scenes of hospital staff rushing to sedate a patient. The helplessness they undergo practically tickles me.

I break into a fit of giggles just thinking about it.

The good doctor interrupts me, "Mikado kicked a nurse in the face."

Thereupon my laughter softens. "I never realized how destructive Mikado can be." I carelessly hint malice and the doctor detects it. He says my name warningly.

"Yes, Shinra?"

"Don't think about involving him in any of your schemes. First it was Kida, then Saki…the girl had to be transferred to another clinic because of _you_," he said.

"You may be a doctor, but you don't honestly care about your patients, right," I insinuate calmly.

Shinra stays quiet after that. It's as I said earlier, I am natural at exposing people; he doesn't care about his patients. It is by compulsion that I lay a hand on my doctor's shoulder. I can't have my own doctor hate me.

I ask him about Celty, a girl institutionalized in another part of the hospital. Any hints of anger disappeared upon the glimmer in the doctor's eyes. Clasping his own hands into mine, Shrina talks in full blown detail about Celty's condition. Her progress is slower than other patience in her ward. There is no medicine powerful enough to bring her mind back from what I call limbo. Originally from Ireland, she claims to have lost her head in Japan when clearly it was attached to her neck. She is fascinating, as were several other patients institutionalized. The problem was she didn't speak to anyone except Shinra. She is enclosed especially around me.

Anyway, the doctor has an odd interest in her. It is because of societal declaration of insanity that she might never leave this place. Even if she has lost her head, nothing is truly insane about her.

"I'm off to group therapy," I say, interrupting Shinra.

Since my arrival, I've shown up twice. He dismisses me before putting away my file in a locked file cabinet. On my way to my room, I catch glimpse of a nurse with towels wrapped around her bloodied face. Several other nurses aided her on the way to the infirmary. I stay watching until they are out of sight.

Provoking my roommate would give me another couple of months, another six at best with the addition of an injured nurse. My, Mikado really slipped into a hazard mode. He threw everything within arm's length, screaming and screaming. This was his third episode this month.

I wonder if they were going to take him somewhere else.

I am divided between being content and disappointed. I will be alone in my room for some time.

* * *

><p>They returned Mikado in <em>some other <em>state.

He sits across the room from where I lay, absorbed in the walls as if they were something to marvel at. There is nothing particularly interesting about them. They are the same bland color, it serves the purpose to force our inventiveness and lucidity away; heaven forbid that we get to put anything on the wall, even a mirror, and claim to see hallucinations. In his normal state of consciousness, Mikado would read or talk to the voices inside of him. To be frank, having a schizophrenic roommate had its advantages. By observing his behavior I learned more about schizophrenia. I made up some absurd voices. I named them too, for added measure: Hibiya, the voice that was constantly telling me to scheme, and Psyche, the voice of "reason". Shinra knew nothing about these voices, but only my therapist when she asked me to justify anything I did. I always replied: "Hibiya told me to do this. Psyche was trying to stop me!" I waged war between the voices in my head that do not exist; poor Psyche was fighting a losing battle.

"Mikado," I call.

I expect no response and he gives me none. I move closer to him, shoving a pillow next to him. He does not move or react to anything. They have drugged him. I know this by the way his pupils are dilated when there's plenty of light in our room, and his movements are slow. It is like time has stopped for him. This is the first time he is this unresponsive. In our group meetings, he nods or smiles. Now, he's like a puppet. I touch his hair, I move his hands. Nothing. Completely lifeless.

Now my boredom increases tenfold. I go back to my side, occasionally looking at him for a change in his posture or even if he has fixed his hair or removed the pillow I gave him. Everything is still in place. It's like staring at a statue.

I am deterred from playing with him again. I wrap my arms around myself and try to sleep, but even that is boring. It is the afternoon, I have skipped therapy and no one was in the lounge to socialize with—just a couple of nurses are present with their patients. I sit on a chair, watching two people play chess. There is nothing amusing about them, Erika and Walker. She is a sociopath, as well as he. Together, they pretend to be sane until their abnormal tendencies of stalking lands them straight back here.

"How is Mikado-kun doing?" Erika asks without sparing a glance. Walker nods as if to ask the same. They aren't concentrating on the game like most people would think. As I have said, they pretend a lot.

"Drugged past oblivion."

Walker looks at me with wide eyes. "I know Mikado-kun is usually on meds, but wow! They haven't done that since Saki left."

"Saki-chan was unstable…she could be the star of a shonen manga with her strength," Erika says.

Saki is a hindrance to go into. I forgo their mentioning of her and veer off topic about their chess game. Erika replies it has been Walker's move for an hour, and he suddenly snaps back into play mode. As he remains indecisive about where to move the bishop, Erika swirls next to me.

"Hey, hey, did you hear? We've got a new addition to our home! Her name is Shizu-chan!"

"Oh?" I say.

The hospital is divided by four wards. I am assigned to Haiiro ward along with Walker, Erika, and Mikado. We have been processed through the criminal justice system, even Mikado (unfortunately for the boy, trouble always seems to find him). Haiiro is regarded as the "grey" area of the hospital, meaning we have problems but not enough to be confined for a very long time. We get sentenced for a period of time, months to a year, but never more than that. After all this is an alternative to jail. Acting up ensures more time added to that sentence.

I mention this because of the four wards Haiiro doesn't get many new admittees. Everyone here is a repeat offender.

"I don't know her prognosis. I just happened to hear some nurses mention her," she went on to say.

Just when Walker is about to make his bishop move, he staggers back and thinks once more, reanalyzing the consequences. Erika tells me all she knows about the new person and goes back to tormenting Walker with bluffs of defeating him at chess. All hell will break loose if those two ever finish a game. It always ends with Walker throwing the chess to the floor.

What has Shizu-chan come to our lovely home for? I don't mind new additions, now that it seemed Mikado would be on drugs for quite some time. It is a little unsettling that it is a girl.

The train of thought is disturbed at the sound of my name being called by a nurse. They have found out I have purposely missed therapy. I might place the blame on Hibiya and explain that Psyche tried to talk me into going to get better, or I could tell them that I was worried about Mikado's wellbeing. Depending on the mood of the group therapist, I might indulge her.

"Actually, Shinra-sensei wants to see you," says the nurse.

As I go, I hear Walker throwing the chess board to the floor and cursing. Erika is undoubtedly happy of her winning by default.

We don't go to Shinra's office. Instead, we turn the corner in hallway that leads back to my room. Shinra is there along with three other nurses, all staring inside my room.

"Mikado-kun had an emergency," she tells me.

I could get her to tell me what that emergency was but we reach Shinra before I could. Mikado's stuff is all gone, granted all of his belongings were books. There are clothes on his former bed, neatly stacked at the bed rear but it wasn't his. They are clothes the staff provides us.

Shinra tells me to go inside and the nurses leave us alone in my room, the door is left open.

"How nice of you to see my new roommate to his room," I begin.

"Yeah, I'm afraid he has the stay here temporarily. There was a mishap with his original roommate."

He looks at his watch, tapping his chin impatiently. I suspect he's talking about "Shizu-chan", who is a man. We're left waiting for a lot longer than he expects. I take a seat on Mikado's former bed, waiting patiently. He continuously pushes his lenses against the bridge of his nose, it's an annoying habit when he was impatient. Pacing the room was another. I'd ask about Mikado to occupy him but my interest in my former roommate is replaced by the anticipation of a new one. With my hand on the clothes, I couldn't remember a time when we had a new person come to my ward. The majority of them were in Akiiro and Aka wards, the curable and the undesirable patients respectively. I am the latest to come in my ward. Even in my short time, a lot of the patients and staff know me.

"Shizuo, this is Orihara Izaya," Shinra calls out.

Shrina points to me like "Shizu-chan" is too stupid not to know who he was talking about. He's dressed in an orange jumpsuit, fresh out of jail. His hair is dyed yellow, the obvious brown roots give him away to make him look more intimidating, I suppose. He has a conflicted look on his face when I haven't said a word and his gaze on me is like an animal stalking prey. I remain seated on _his_ new bed, to give him a valid reason to be angry

"Your face pisses me off already," he snarls.

He's as stupid as he appears. "Oh," I reply.

Shinra leans against the wall, smiling.

"Get the hell off my bed," he demands.

"Actually, I like this side of the room. I was lucky enough to get rid of every past roommate for it," I explain. My bed is more comfortable, to be honest, it is away from the grimly barred window. I never did enjoy waking up to the sun in my eyes and the shadows of the bars over me. It really felt like being in jail that way.

"Get the hell off."

"My, here I was hoping for a smarter roommate, not a caveman," I sigh.

That was enough to provoke him. He was so enraged that he didn't even try to make his attacks subtle. He aimed at my face. I got up in time to jump to my side of the room. It wasn't a very long distance between our beds but I had enough space to get by and leave the room in case he attacks a second time. By the time I turn around, he's broken Mikado's old bed into pieces, along with the mattress. He is a brute, in addition he had anger problems. I looked to the doctor but Shinra was already calling for help while I fend off this beast. Knowing him these were his intentions all along.

He really doesn't care for his patients like he does Celty.

"Your bed won't be so comfortable now, will it?" I ask, sitting on my bed.

It seems everything that comes out of my mouth is blasphemous. He stares at me with his eyes flashing red, his nostrils flaring. Ah, I've never seen an animal up close except on television. When I was young, my parents never bothered to take me to the zoo. They loved their son dearly, but they were busy people as usual. My childhood was of normal standards, and my parents were plain except their peculiar choice of name for me.

Back to Shizuo, his breathing is more feral. I wonder if he's trying to calm down before help arrives. If I say anything more…he'll snap. Just like that.

I remain quiet while we stare at each other. I'm fairly positive I haven't tamed the beast, but I think I've assessed Shinra's expectations.

I am so amazed by my new roommate that I start to clap.

"What the hell?" he asks.

"That was really impressive. You broke a mattress in half with your bare hands!" He turns around to avoid my eyes. I dislike that someone doesn't look at me while I speak. It's worse than being cut off while talking. I almost whisper the next words:

"You really are a monster."

He doesn't turn around. For a while, I thought he didn't hear me.

The next thing I knew he's holding Mikado's former drawer over my head. I look at him, waiting to move out of the way but he is still. His head turns slightly to his back, in the same curious wander I'm in. He is not hesitating, rather he can no longer move. His arms and legs have been stilled forcibly by a small needle in his neck.

Shinra moves out of the way when the drawer falls to the floor, inches from my feet. Shizuo sinks slowly to the floor, muttering curses meant for Shinra. I bend down, tugging his dyed hair and tousling it once his eyes close.

He looks so comfortable sleeping.

"Heiwajima Shizuo," Shinra says, "He's staying here for six months for intensive anger management. He's a walking hazard everywhere he goes. Even though he hasn't killed anyone in any of his anger periods, it isn't too late to start."

I look at the mess he made. "Of course you'd tell me after the fact."

Shinra grins. "I wanted to see how you would handle yourself. He intimidated the first two roommates we considered. You know, he used to be a good friend of mine in high school. I never thought you two would ever get a chance to meet."

"You say it like you've been looking forward to it. So, what do you think?"

"I'd say you did fairly well. Although getting him sedated on the first day is a rocky start, don't you think?"

"Not at all," I respond.

He lacks a brain but things have gotten interesting. He might have gotten offended that I called him a monster, but he doesn't surmount to that just yet. I'll make sure he's half past that level that he won't ever be able to walk Ikebukuro.

Shizu-chan hasn't seen a monster yet.


End file.
